Welcome Reality
by Aelfwen
Summary: Commander Shepard wasn't always a hero. Jane begins life as the daughter of space marines who earned their medals in the First Contact War. When Hannah Shepard decides to shake things up and move to the colonies, Jane's life is altered in ways that would one day shape the rest of the galaxy. Rated M for language, violence, and suggestive themes. Eventual Femshep/Garrus.
1. 2808

Author's Note: I'm here to write deep-lore fanfiction after a recent playthrough. I needed to get some angsty/joyful/etc feelings out. Enjoy!

Summary: This is the story of Commander Shepard's life, _before_ becoming Commander Shepard. We're starting at the beginning.

* * *

**280857 - 28 August, 2157**

The breeze was a fickle thing, tossing her chin-length hair back and forth with abandon. A seagull cawed cheerily from above, unaware of the pomp occurring below its wings as it shat directly four feet in front of Hannah Shepard. The impact made a barely audible splat against the stage floor. She watched it, unimpressed, hands aching for a gun to shoot it, shoot herself, shoot_ something_. It was currently irrelevant in Hannah's mind that she was no longer authorized to shoot things at random. She sat to the left of the woman at the podium, who was currently invoking the names of the deceased in an effort to embody their sacrifice. That woman was Admiral Kastanie Drescher, a paragon of greatness in the Fleet, especially since she had turned the tide in the Occupation of Shanxi.

"Peace is, by its nature, a paradox. The men and women we honor here today have given their lives for that peace, forever a reminder to maintain it. A new age dawns for humanity in the passage of this war. We find ourselves amongst not only new species -" at this, she looked out over the alien contingent gathered to her right, a mix of the rather frog-like salarians, mono-gendered asari, and even high-ranking turians (Hannah's jaw reflexively clenched when she saw them), "- but also new and powerful allies."

Hannah inwardly grimaced. It certainly wasn't that she disliked Drescher's speech - no, that wasn't it at all. In fact, the admiral was doing a fantastic job, per usual. The crowd was calm, with the rare exception of a human glare or two discreetly shot at the turians, and vice versa. It was that, in light of all of Hannah's strength and downright stubbornness, she could not fool herself. She was not suddenly a bulwark of iron will. She was still a wreck. She couldn't even hear his name without coming apart at the seams. Her eyes burned fiercely. Nauseating grief roiled in her gut like a geyser about to erupt. God, what a metaphor. She wanted to laugh at herself. Instead, water pooled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks effortlessly.

_Fuck._ She could curse herself for days. She had promised John - and herself - that she wouldn't get all weepy in public. He wouldn't have wanted her to cry over him. In fact, at his father's funeral he'd said something along the lines of, "Honey, we'll go home, make some fajitas, and honor his memory with a bottle of Pinot Noir warming our guts." His sense of humor was perfect. He was perfect.

And now, he was dead. She missed him so much. So goddamn much.

Down in the audience sat a tot of a girl - barely three years old, chubby and all-around adorable, with tufty reddish curls and freckly cheeks. She was wearing a dress that was not entirely comfortable, but due to the gravity of the event, she would never complain. Her lower lip poked out and her chin dimpled in consternation at the sight of her mother's tears. She squirmed in her grandmother's lap. "Now, Janie, don't fidget -"

Even at three years old, Jane Shepard was a force of nature not to be reckoned with. In a display of incredible toddler flexibility, she limp-noodled her way out of her grandmother's grasp and, as Hannah Shepard stood to accept her husband's Star of Terra, clambered up the four steps adjoining the stage and neatly stepped in the gull crap on her way to engulf her mother's legs in a tremendous hug.

Hannah was unsurprised, and swiftly pulled her daughter up into her arms, well aware of the crowd's wave of admiration and heartache that followed as Jane hugged her tightly about the neck. She was also well aware that Jane knew exactly what she was doing. She was most definitely her father's daughter. Jane had the same effect on her, evaporating her sadness like the rising sun blotting away dew on blades of grass.

In that moment, Hannah Shepard knew that although she had lost her husband, she still had him with her, right here, in Jane. It filled her with a peace she hadn't had since the day John died.

Shifting her daughter to her other hip, she strode to Kastanie Drescher. The woman's sharp blue eyes assessed her briefly, and she nodded her condolences as she passed the plaque and its accompanying merit into both Shepards' awaiting hands: one callused and well-versed in war, the other still small, soft, and untouched by life's hardships.

"It is with high honor that I bestow upon you this Star, in remembrance of John Shepard and his sacrifice for peace."


	2. Cry No More

**020459- 2 April, 2160**

In the wake of the First Contact War's resolution, Hannah Shepard found herself adrift. In further recognition of her husband's outstanding service, the brass offered her a job on Earth - a position called "civil technician," whatever the hell that meant. She wasn't sure whether she should be relieved or offended about being relegated to a desk job. She could push paper with the best of them, but it sure was boring as hell. And she certainly wasn't a scientist, by any stretch of the word. In her opinion, they had made her decision to leave the Alliance that much easier. It was her mother-in-law who was complicating matters.

"You will _not_ take my only grandchild away from me!"

Perhaps Hannah would have been more affected by Winona Shepard's righteous indignation had she not been so goddamn _tired_ of the meddlesome woman. Truly, when they'd first learned of John's death, Winnie had been a blessing to her - cooking meals, watching Janie, cooking more meals - amongst other, very helpful pursuits. But she was becoming too possessive. Hannah was being given an indefinite furlough, so to speak, and thus had plenty of time to take care of her daughter. Moreover, it had been nearly three years since John's death. Hannah would always keep him close to her heart, but she was not one to wallow. She needed to move on to new fields, quite literally.

It was a very beautiful day. Hannah inhaled deeply, inviting the crisp spring air of Vancouver to refresh her wits before she plowed into this unpleasant subject. "Winnie, I am not stealing her from you. She's my daughter, after all," she pointed out. "We'd like to get a new start. I've talked to her about this, and she's not only willing, but excited about it." It was rather funny, this argument - they were conducting it in fierce whispers, lest Jane hear from the sandbox down in the yard. She was currently flying a model frigate quite effectively with raspberry noises.

"How could she possibly understand? She's five years old, yet you want to go off to an alien world and _farm_, for God's sake!" Genetic theory aside, John had definitely inherited his mother's bullheadedness. "Who's going to take care of her while you're off doing Lord knows what with a high-tech tractor?" Her objections were understandable, at least. She lived a very well-to-do life in the upper circles of society. Her son had shocked their entire family when he married a farmer's daughter from the boonies of New Ohio. Even so, Winnie's delivery left something to be desired.

Hannah swirled her glass of lemonade in a slow, relaxed manner, though her knuckle-white grip on the glass betrayed her aggravation. "That's right. She's five years old. That's when children begin to realize they can learn. And even though she's young, and it is difficult for her to understand that her father is _dead_," even with the soft tone, her words were laser-sharp, "she's still uncomfortable with his absence, and tired of being reminded of it daily by her surroundings."

Winnie's chin quivered. "Are you sure it's not just _you_ who's tired?" Hannah winced, but at least she'd gotten her point across. After a long silence, the older woman sighed in resignation. "I understand. I'd have done the same thing, myself. I don't really have any room to judge." A slight pause. "But _Mindoir_? That's half the galaxy away!"

"I've done my research. It's ripe for colonization. The Alliance is even offering stipends to families who volunteer. We'd be living in state-of-the-art housing, using the best equipment available. And we'd be well protected." Hannah could be persuasive if she put her mind to it.

"I can't just let my family leave." Winnie's voice was thick with emotion, though she was doing an admirable job of staying firm.

Hannah felt a pang of guilt. She had not really given thought to the fact that she and Jane were really the only family that Winnie had left. John had been an only child, born to an old family. Winnie's husband had died years ago – cancer. If they left, she would be alone – or perhaps would become the generous yet mysterious "Auntie" at family reunions. Hannah believed that Winnie would actually quite like doing that. But perhaps Winnie saw this as her doomsday. She believed would never see her family again. If that was so, Hannah wanted to correct that, or at least reassure her further.

She reached for her mother-in-law's hand, and surprisingly, Winnie took it. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you," she said gently. "We would send you vid mail every month."

"I'll do you one better." Winona's gaze went flinty and hard. "I'm coming with you."

"What?!" Hannah pulled her hand away, shaken.

Her mother-in-law shook her head, her delicately coiffed copper hair shifting gently. "You can't convince me otherwise. I've already made the necessary arrangements here."

"I don't-"

"Oh, drop the damn pretenses and _listen_, Hannah." Winnie's tone drew the younger woman up short. "You know I'm alone here. I want–" her gaze flickered to Jane, "I want to be with my family. You're all I've got left. And I'd burn in hell before I let you both slink off to some backwater world without me."

That shocked a laugh from her. She sat back in her chair and tucked a sheaf of her blonde hair behind an ear, almost nervously. "Okay. It's honestly a good idea," she admitted. She was mad at herself for not thinking of it sooner.

The older woman smiled tremulously. "I know. It was John's."

His name was still a punch in the gut. The women stared at each other, eyes glossy with unshed tears.

"I know we don't always get along very well - but I'm willing to try. For her." Winnie's gaze softened as she looked at Jane, who was now bashing the sand with a shovel and pew-pewing with the frigate in her other hand.

Hannah shook her head and dashed the tears, speechless. She looked out over the well-developed suburbs of Vancouver, her heart swelling. The trees were in the full swing of spring, now, bright green with young leaves, and charming houses were interspersed amongst the hills. It was a pleasant corner, but painful for her. And now, she could leave with peace of mind. More or less.

She looked farther down the hill, where her daughter still played war in the sandbox. "Jane!" The little girl turned looked up at her mother and grandmother somewhat petulantly for interrupting her very important imagined battle. Hannah loved the way her fiery hair billowed in the wind. "Come on up here."

She stood and did her best to brush the sand off, though some had made it into her clothes. Without further ado, she ran up the hill and clambered up the dark-stained wooden porch steps and looked expectantly at her elders.

Grandma ruffled her hair and she giggled. "We're going out to lunch, cutie," Winnie said. "Where would you like to go?"

"McDonalds!" She shouted immediately with glee, raising her fists to the sky with an air of victory. The two adults looked at one another, and Hannah burst out laughing. What could you expect an American kid to choose? Then again, there wouldn't be many McD's where they were going. Looking back at Winnie, she sobered, unable to withhold a grin.

Winnie smiled as well, albeit a bit sadly. "That's a great choice, honey. How about you get your shoes on, and we'll head out?" The young girl tore off to find her sandals, unaware that it would be a very long time before she set eyes on one of those delicious greasy burgers again. An exciting colonial destiny awaited her, and although Jane didn't know it yet, she'd grab it by the horns and direct it to even higher pursuits.


	3. Sunrise

**130260 - 13 February, 2161**

Moving to Mindoir was an enlightening experience, to say the least. Hannah had been around North America with (and without) her husband on their various tours of duty, and had even lived in space for a few years, but none of that compared to moving to an entirely new _world. _There was an extensive process dedicated to testing the men and women willing to colonize: from rather bizarre medical tests that documented reactions to native flora, to behavioral tests that analyzed colonists' predispositions, especially regarding sociopathic behavior.

Hannah cynically believed that those tests would be glossed over in time, when colonization became more popular. It was still a shiny, new source of revenue. Earth's governments were cautious about privatization. Hannah knew it would change when corporations like ExoGeni began raising a stink about it. Right now, however, the Alliance had a monopoly on which planets got colonized by who. It had issued a heavily regulated list — a book, really — of recommended belongings. Many tools and goods would be allotted to the colonists when they arrived on the planet.

As she packed, she couldn't help laughing inwardly. The loft she and Jane lived in even belonged to the Alliance. She didn't have to make sure the furniture was gone, or that the appliances were sold – someone would move in almost immediately after they left. _You can leave the Alliance, but the Alliance never leaves you._ Technically, she was on furlough. They were leaving her options very open, which she appreciated, but it was unnecessary. She was not fighting again. She was living for herself and more importantly, for her daughter.

Thankfully, the Shepards knew how to live lightly, and Hannah found herself able to pack what they had well within Alliance guidelines. She was doing some last-minute rounds to check for anything she'd missed when her comm beeped. She activated her omni-tool and a familiar face stared at her from the screen.

"Ma'am."

"Anderson?" She smiled and scooted a duffle bag so she could sit on the bed. "Nice to see you. Or should I call you Lieutenant? Congratulations, by the way."

He smiled back. "Thanks, but Anderson's just fine. I'm half surprised to see you still have your communicator. Aren't you a civilian now?"

"Oh, not quite. You of all people should know the Alliance doesn't like to let go of the good ones." _Or the good ones' families._ Her smile slipped a little. "And I'm definitely not giving their cool gadgets back."

He chuckled. "I verify that." He seemed to be walking somewhere, and there were lots of colorful pulsing ads in the background of his screen, written in what looked like Chinese characters. The convoluted movement was slightly nauseating.

"Where are you? China?"

"Hong Kong. Prepping for an orbital flight." He squeezed past a group of people, the cam pointing to the night sky temporarily. It's orangish gray, due to the light pollution.

"I'm guessing it's classified as to where you're going?"

Anderson looked a touch pained. "Sorry, I can't tell you much beyond that. You know how it is."

"Of course." She mulled over what he'd said. The Alliance was eager to get a foothold on the Citadel, and David was one of their best N4s. She wondered where – and what – his new assignment was.

The pattering crescendo of her daughter's feet against the floor warned her of the impending jump onto her back. Thank God five year olds weren't too substantial. Hannah skillfully ducked her shoulder so Jane scooted over her head and tumbled into her lap with a shriek of laughter. "Woah, cutie! Slow down, there. Do you remember Uncle David?" When the little girl saw the comm screen, her eyes widened and she waved, albeit bashfully.

Hannah couldn't help smiling. "Kids are fickle little things," she murmured, hugging Jane closer. "One minute, they fight for all the attention they can get - then, without a word, they try to bury their heads in the sand."

"I can see that. Hey there, Janie. How's school treating you?"

Jane's nose crinkled as she grinned at the screen. "I'm done with kindergarten! I start first grade when we get to the new planet." Her eyes sparkled with excitement.

"That's fantastic. Remind me, which colony are you heading to?"

"Mindoir! It's got different life from earth! The extranet says–" she stopped short, looking up at her mother with something like regret in her eyes. Not for breaking her mother's rules, but for ratting herself out about it.

"No more extranet," Hannah said firmly, the admonition rendered less effective by her failing attempts to look serious. Jane's lips pursed in a melodramatic pout, and she folded her arms, burrowing down into her mother's lap.

David withheld a grin. He was standing in line for something, now. "You've got a spitfire, ma'am."

"You're not wrong," Hannah agreed. " Jane chanced a glance at the screen, then ducked her chin petulantly.

"I'm at intake, now." Anderson scrutinized her thoughtfully. "I'm not going to be able to talk for a while. I wanted to wish you good luck. You've got a lot going, both for you and your little girl. Don't mess it up."

The older Shepard grinned mischievously. "Don't mess it up…?"

"Ma'am."

"Don't blow up anything too big on your super secret mission."

He laughed ruefully at that. "Never. Take care of yourself, alright?"

"You too, David. Stay safe."

With that, he ended the call. She was rather thrilled that he'd broken several regs to call her. He was young, but still a great soldier, and had handled himself well during the war. He'd been stationed under John's command on the SSV Houston, before John… well.

She looked down at her daughter, whose green eyes sent a pang of bittersweetness bolting through her stomach. "Are you ready to head out, darlin'?" She asked, smoothing back her daughter's hair.

* * *

The trip to Mindoir took a little over a week; even using FTL, the colony fleet was large and required dedicated stops in various systems along the way to refuel or buy supplies. Despite that, it was amazing. As peace offering, the turians offered to escort the first outpouring of colonists, and the Alliance could not ignore their show of goodwill. For each of the twenty ships traveling to Mindoir, the turians provided an accommodating fighter. They rotated through several different formations a day, and Jane loved to watch out the windows for their efficient but fantastic performances.

Winona was less than impressed. "It makes me ill, watching them zoom around like that," she muttered. "Why would they want to help us, anyway?"

Hannah sighed. "I don't like it either, but it's a show of good faith."

"Let's hope it's more than just a show," Winnie said darkly. Hannah glared at her, and Winnie pursed her lips, shifting Jane to a more comfortable position in her ample lap.

"Why don't you like turians, Grandma?" Jane's question built the tension in the room into a hot, heavy brick.

"Well, the turians ki–"

"That's enough." Hannah's tone brooked no argument from her mother-in-law. She pulled Jane off Winnie's lap and strode out of the cabin, firmly holding her daughter's hand despite her protests.

They made her uneasy, but she understood the political implications of their alien guard. The Council supported humans, despite their incredible newness to the galactic stage. Perhaps the other races viewed them as shiny new playthings – _at least they consider us valuable_, Hannah thought grimly. She'd always liked spaceflight, but she couldn't wait for solid ground beneath her feet – and no turians within shooting distance.

Jane stopped in her tracks, pulling her hand free from Hannah's. "Momma, I'm not hungry." She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. "What was Grandma talking about?"

Hannah bit back a curse, and kneeled in front of her daughter. "Your grandma… well. She was talking about the First Contact War. It was when we first encountered aliens."

"That's where Dad died, right?"

Hannah sighed. "Yes, honey. It was… an accident. We're on the same side, now." A lump formed in her throat. It hurt desperately to talk about the war as if no one had really meant what they'd done. Her nightmares said otherwise. But she wasn't about to discuss the harsh truths of their new galactic reality with her six-year old.

Jane processed this information silently. She looked out the window, where a fighter flew beside them at a safe patrolling distance. "They didn't mean it," she said. Hannah blinked. The times she seemed to read her mind were uncanny. The conviction in her daughter's voice was strong. "They were afraid."

"Yeah," Hannah managed. _We were too. _She pulled Jane into a fierce hug.

"Momma, look!" Her daughter's excited gasp shook her out of a daze, and she turned to follow where Jane pointed. Coming into view was the horizon of Mindoir - a riot of green and blue, yet in dizzyingly different arrangements compared to Earth. The planet eclipsed the alien sun, the bluish atmosphere of it mingling orange at the edges of the bright light.

* * *

Within hours, the fleet began unloading colonists at Barton, the capital of the main continent, for processing and shuttle flight to their designated prefabs. "Capital" wasn't the best word - the city was smallish, with low-ground buildings spreading like polygonal veins across the valley. It was still dark. She checked her omni-tool – due to a variety of factors, Mindoir's day-night cycle was 20 hours long instead of 24. Her clock blinked 3h40.

Hannah didn't have much time to gawp. They were quickly bundled and corralled off the transport ship, getting their new IDs while waiting for a ride. "Shepard, family of three, from Vancouver," the man read off the terminal, looking at her over his glasses. Hannah nodded and grasped Jane's hand. Winnie stood close behind. "Here are your IDs," he passed them a data chip, "they were assigned to your omni-tools already, but keep that on you for scanning purposes. Head over to Bay 12 for your assigned supplies and shuttle transport."

She nodded. "Got it. Thanks." With that, they were off. Hannah navigated the throng of people expertly, keeping a firm grip on her daughter's hand. They picked up their supplies – mostly some temp rations until they got settled, and a few miscellaneous tools. They were on a shuttle to their new home within an hour.

The shuttle was cramped – they were packing as many people as would fit safely per ride. Families conversed with one another. It wasn't loud, yet still a bit overwhelming. A man stood from his seat. "Ma'am, you can have mine." He gestured to Winnie.

"Oh, thank you very much!" The older woman gratefully sat, placing the crate she carried in her lap. "What's your name, young man?"

"Alan, ma'am." Listening from nearby, Hannah thought she detected a European accent. Scottish, maybe?

"Well, thank you again, Alan." Winnie shot a disapproving look around the shuttle. "Civility is in short supply around here," she added loudly. A couple annoyed glares were sent back at her.

"Ah, it's nothing," he whispered, embarrassed.

"Don't mind her," Hannah murmured. "She's not used to colony life yet. I'm Hannah." She held out her hand.

He shook it. "Great to meet you." His brown eyes were warm.

She returned her hand to a ceiling rung as the shuttle was gently buffeted. "That's my mother-in-law, Winona. Though she'd likely prefer Mrs. Shepard. And my daughter, Jane." She nodded towards her daughter, who'd taken up residence in front of the shuttle door with a few other kids, entranced by the views out the window.

"Shepard?" His brow furrowed. "I– I'm sorry. For your loss," he added awkwardly. He looked away.

Hannah didn't understand. She squinted at him. "You knew my husband?"

"I was an engineer on the Kinshasa. Part of Admiral Drescher's counterattack. All of us saw what he did." He managed to look at her again. "For what it's worth, your husband's a damned hero."

She peeked back at Winnie, who quickly turned to stare at nothing in particular. She seemed unabashed about being caught eavesdropping. Hannah sighed, shifting the duffel strap on her shoulder. "No offense, but it's not worth much, since he died for it."

Rather than being taken aback, Alan gave her a crooked smile. "Yeah. That's a shitty trade-off, no?"

She huffed – almost a laugh. "Exactly." They assumed a companionable silence amid other soft conversations.

"Folks, we're commencing the landing sequence. Please use the stability rungs and seatbelts for your safety," the pilot warned over the comm. They braced themselves, and with a bit of maneuvering, they were landed. "Please clear the exit point."

"Come on back here, Janie." Hannah held out a hand, and Jane took it obediently. The door hissed open, and bright, orangish-pink light filled the space. A wave of awed murmurs went through the colonists – the turquoise sky was dappled with clouds, multicolored in the early morning sun. Light glinted off roofs of the prefab housing down the hill, glossy and new. The grass – or moss, it looked spongy – was pale gray-green. Some scattered trees were covered in large, flat yellow leaves, while others had dark bluish, curly ones. Someone ahead of them opened their omni-tool and snapped a picture. Another sneezed. It felt unreal.

Hannah glanced back at Winnie, who nodded at her encouragingly. She looked back out at the colony. "Time to go," she said, heart pounding. Holding Jane's hand, they walked into their new world together.


	4. Together

**14102165 - 14 October, 2165**

Soft coral sunlight shone through the shades in eleven-year old Jane's room. She stretched and rolled, the sheets tangled around her legs. Blinking sleepily, she looked at the date on her bedside holo-clock. "Dang it!" She scrambled out of bed, tugging her boots on over her pajama pants, tripping as she barreled down the stairs. "Mom!" She shouted.

Grandma was in the kitchen, scrambling eggs for breakfast. "Good morning, Janie. Your mom's outside. Why don't you go get her, and we'll eat together?"

"Sure! Love you!" Jane snagged a piece of toast and kissed Winnie's waiting cheek. She scampered out the front door before her grandmother could reply.

The air was crisp yet comfortable, and the yawba trees were in full bloom - cottony puffballs floated lazily through the air, coating anything they hit with a burst of shimmering pollen. Jane jogged down the path to the farm, tendrils of the long grasses brushing her flannel pants and leaving burrs.

She found Hannah near the cornfield, using her omni-tool to update the agri-drones' software. Her long blonde hair had lightened considerably in the strong sun, and freckles were abundant on her face and shoulders. She looked beautiful and happy. "Mom!"

She turned at the sound of her name and grinned at her rapidly approaching daughter. "Hi, spitfire. What's–"

"You shouldn't be working! It's a Saturday. Plus, you're _getting_ _married_?" Jane spoke the last part slowly, as though her mother had trouble understanding.

"Yes," Hannah replied dryly, "I suppose I am." She tousled Jane's hair, "Any rats in there?"

Affronted, Jane pushed her mother's hand away. "No, this look is called, er, um–" she looked around desperately, "the yawba puff."

Hannah snorted. "Wait, do you even know what a rat is?"

"Yes! Maybe? Well, no. I mean, I've read about them, but I've never seen–what's so funny?" With each addition, Hannah was sent into a deeper fit of laughter. Eventually she was bent over and wheezing. After a moment she straightened, exhaled, and dashed a tear from her eye. Jane stared at her impatiently, trying to hide her embarrassment.

"Sorry, hon. I just want to finish up some stuff out here. I have a couple hours before–"

Jane didn't have time for this. "You're supposed to be getting ready!"

Hannah folded her arms, giving her daughter a lofty look. "I have been married before, you know. I don't want as much pomp and ceremony this time. We've been through this."

"Yeeeees, but–"

"No buts. I'll complete the repairs and come up afterward." Hannah's tone brooked no argument.

Jane, stubborn as her father, stood her ground. "Grandma should be finished with breakfast by now. Scrambled eggs and…" her eyes gleamed, "bacon."

Hannah's eyes narrowed and she tilted her head, like she hadn't heard her right. "And where would you have gotten those goods?"

"I traded for them," her daughter said smugly. Their neighbor had fresh eggs every day from his chickens, and Alan had pulled some of his Alliance strings for the bacon.

Her mother opened her mouth, then closed it again. She looked at the drone as though it had something to add to the conversation. It remained silent. "Ugh, fine!" She tapped a few keys on her omni-tool and the drone winked out of existence.

"Yes!" Jane did a little happy dance. She grabbed her mom's hand and yanked her along up the hill, deaf to any protests.

* * *

"Ow." Jane stood before the bathroom mirror, grimacing as Winnie ran a brush through her hair. "Do you have to brush it?"

"Almost done, cutie." With a few deft movements, she'd braided a sheaf of Jane's brilliant red hair, then pressed a gentle hand to her granddaughter's back. "There you go. Time for your dress?" Her gray eyes were soft, and the crows' feet surrounding them crinkled as she smiled.

Jane admired her reflection for a moment. She looked up at her grandmother. "Thank you," she said seriously. Winnie let out a surprised noise as Jane hugged her tightly and dashed out of the bathroom and up the prefab stairs to don her dress.

She pressed a couple buttons on her room's keypad, and the automatic door swished shut. Standing on her tiptoes, she could barely reach the clothes' hanger on her closet door. Her dress was a soft viscose material, bouncy yet breathable. There were sprays of tiny teal and red-orange flowers arranged in swirling patterns on the cream fabric. When Jane looked at her ghostly, transparent reflection in the window, she felt almost as beautiful as her mother.

A knock at her door. "Come in!" The door slid open, and in walked Hannah. Her two-piece jumpsuit was a riot of color on white, like bouquets had been stamped all over it in chaotic clarity. She wore her hair half-braided, and it glimmered in the mid-afternoon light. She seemed to tower over Jane, despite wearing low-slung heels.

"You look fantastic, Janie!" She strode over to her daughter, grasping her hands. "What do you think of mine? Good? Bad? Ugly?" Her hopeful look faltered as Jane stood silent, eyes wide and open-mouthed. By degrees, her face scrunched up and her chin began to wobble. Her eyes went glossy. Alarmed, Hannah hitched her pants to kneel and asked, "What's wrong, honey?"

Jane threw her arms around her mother's neck and buried her face deep in her hair. "You're so pretty," her muffled voice was thick with tears. "I love you so much."

Hannah wrapped her arms around the eleven-year old, cradling her head with a gentle hand. She leaned back and took Jane's face between her hands, using the pads of her thumbs to wipe away any rogue tears. ""I love you to Sol and back, spitfire." She tucked a loose strand of Jane's hair behind her ear. "Talk to me."

Her daughter looked askance, then down at her feet. "I don't want––I don't want us to change." The fear that her mother would forget about her when she had a new family was distant, but still, it was present. "It's just been the two of us for as long as I can remember. I want to keep you to myself," Jane admitted. She looked back up at her mother, eyes wide and gemlike.

Hannah's gaze went soft. "You'll always have me. This," she pointed back and forth between them, "can't be changed. You're my number one, Janie. Alan knows that," she said, grinning. "In fact, he agrees."

The doubt crinkled between Jane's brows melted away. She returned a halting smile. Again, her arms went round her mother's neck. She closed her eyes and willed herself to burn this memory into her brain forever. "Thanks, Momma," she whispered.

"Anytime."

* * *

The ceremony was brief. Efficient as always, Hannah and Alan digitally signed the marriage license with their handprints. Jane stood beside her grandmother as the two vowed to love and keep one another in a variety of states both good and ill. And when they kissed, Jane couldn't help smiling, despite the complex storm of emotions roiling in her stomach.

Winnie squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "Time to celebrate, huh?" The newly married couple broke their embrace and held their arms wide for the other two.

"Get over here, goofball!"

Jane scampered over, wrapping her arms around their waists as best she could. "Well, it's official," she quipped. "You're permanently attached to each other's credit chits."

Alan guffawed at that. "Thank Christ, I was nearly broke!" Hannah playfully punched him in the arm. Even Winnie cracked a smile. Beatific, they left the Colonial Civil Issues suite and exited the government building, automatic doors swishing shut behind them. It had begun to rain, but in the Mindoir way – spritzing, with intermittent sun breaks throughout the cloud cover. The four dashed (as much as they were able in their dress clothes) to a nearby café, and promptly ordered three coffees and a hot chocolate.

* * *

1**1042166 - 11 April, 2166**

During lunch, Jane's omni-tool beeped. She opened her messages and saw a new one from her mother.

_Meet me down in the clearing behind the house. I have something I'd like to show you._

_Love,_

_Mom_

_PS– happy birthday, goofus._

Without a second thought, Jane shoveled the crusts of her sandwich into her mouth and bolted out of her chair. Rather than use the door to leave, she vaulted out of the open window bay behind their dining table and landed soundly on the mossy ground. She bounded down the hill, omni-tool flaring in the orange mid-afternoon sun.

Their backyard was home to the entrance of a good-sized forest, though the colonists maintained a winding path that criss-crossed in the neighborhood, allowing cyclists and walkers to enjoy shaded paths through the smooth-barked, leafy trees. A small foot bridge passed over a brook, and Jane's feet thumped on the roughened enamel-polymer as she ran across it. Beyond was a clearing on their property that was often used for block parties or town hall meetings, when the weather was nice. Now, it was empty. Well, almost.

Jane slowed, coming to stop near the middle of the meadow. She looked around, confused. A long polypropylene wall stood at the opposite edge of the clearing, housing a collection of targets pasted on junky mannequin-like figures.

"That was quick," her mother's voice laughed to her left, and she jumped with fright.

"Jeez, Mom! Why're you creeping around back there?" Hannah emerged from behind a group of purple-flowered bushes and sauntered toward her daughter.

"Because this is your birthday present!" Hannah spread her arms wide, smiling open-mouthed like she couldn't be more pleased with herself.

Jane was nonplussed, although that was dissolving into indifference. "There's nothing here," she said slowly and loudly, as if her mother was hard of hearing.

Hannah tutted and walked around her daughter, wagging a finger. "You think you're so smart. _I'm_ your present. Today, we're starting your hand-to-hand lessons."

Realization in the form of a thrilled grin spread over Jane's diminutive features. "Seriously?" At her mother's sage nod, she whooped, balled up her fists, and hopped from one foot to the other in a small happy dance, spongy moss crinkling underfoot.

"And perhaps," Hannah began, hand going to her lower back, "once you've mastered everything I show you, we can, _perhaps,_ consider pistol training." In one smooth movement, she pulled a compact gun from its holster on her back, aimed briefly, and fired. Jane flinched at the sharp _crack_ of the shot, but her eyes widened when she saw the smoldering spot left in the chest of one of the dummies.

"_Are you kidding me!_" She shouted, less a question and more an enthusiastic outburst.

Hannah holstered her gun and crossed her arms, eyebrows lifting. "No, I am not. However, there will be absolutely _no_ talk of gunfire – not even a whisper – until you grasp the basics of hand-to-hand." Hearing the cold seriousness in her mother's voice, Jane straightened. "While melee combat can be deadly, a gun is the ultimate killer. It is a dangerous and often misused tool. A single shot can kill someone."

Seeing her daughter's paling face, she laid a reassuring hand on Jane's shoulder. "That said, we will exclusively be using practice rounds. But I'm getting ahead of myself." Hannah stepped back and sank into a half-squat, arms raised and fingers loosely curled. "First lesson: defense."


End file.
